


Fathers' Day

by AtoTheBean



Series: A Bleary, Hopeful Universe [5]
Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Baking, Blearyverse, Father's Day, Fluff, M/M, Nathan can crawl, Surprises, Well this explains why, You know all that Italian Zach speaks in Bleary?, and is starting to talk, anti-angst, like seriously, you'll need the Pro toothpaste after this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 05:34:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4167858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtoTheBean/pseuds/AtoTheBean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris wants to surprise Zach for Father’s Day, especially since it's the first one he’s been able to celebrate in decades.  But Zach has surprises of his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fathers' Day

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to NixDucky and Juno.

"You ready for the big day?" Chris asked Nathan in hushed tones, changing his diaper as the first blush of dawn filtered through the window. Nathan giggled up at Chris and kicked his legs. He was growing so fast, and he looked more and more like his dad with every passing month. He had a dimple in his cheek in the same place Zach did, and the little dent under his left eye when he grinned really big — like he was now — just like his father. His hair and eyelashes were getting longer and darker, framing eyes that remained stubbornly blue. Except for those eyes, he was Mini-Z through and through. Same laugh. Same goofy grin. And Nathan was starting on the vocabulary.

"Is it Daddy's day?"

"Da da da da," Nathan repeated.

"That's right," Chris said, refastening the onesie and pulling some striped cotton sweatpants over Nathan's chubby legs. It would warm up later, but for now morning still chilled the air. "I think he's going to like our present, don't you?" Chris asked, allowing Nathan to make fists around his thumbs and pulling him up to a sitting position. "So strong! And where are Nathan's fingers?" Nathan splayed his hands, and Chris pretended to eat them, drawing a delighted squeal of "ba ba ba" from from the baby. "Breakfast. Good idea. We should surprise Daddy with breakfast, too."

Chris let the dogs out the back and strapped Nathan into the highchair, pouring out a few Cheerios and placing some bits of cut banana for Nathan to start with while Chris heated formula to mix with rice cereal. He started the coffee maker and opened a jar of organic applesauce to give the cereal flavor.

“So what should we make Daddy for Father’s Day breakfast?” he asked as he spooned the mush into Nathan’s mouth. “Frittata’s too messy to take to him in bed. Maybe pancakes?”

Nathan gurgled and talked between bites and moved his hands, engaging Chris in conversation that he only understood bits of.  Nathan had been using gestures for a while, but he’d just recently started combining them with “words.”  The open mouth and hands grasping at air clearly meant “I would like another bite, please.”  Whereas fingers in the bowl meant “you are very slow at this,” and pushing the bowl away meant “I am now on the Cheerios and banana course of this meal again.”   “Da da da,” was obviously “Daddy,”  but other vocalizations were a lot less clear.  The scrunched nose he was currently sporting seemed to indicate that Nathan was not certain about Chris’ suggestion of pancakes.

“You’re right. Syrup is messy, too. Hmm.” Chris looked at the clock. Seven-fifteen. Zach had gotten in late after a charity event and a week full of meetings. But the weekend was just theirs. Chris had even told his dad they’d get together the following weekend. He wanted Zach’s first Father’s Day as a dad to be special, especially considering that it was the first he’d been able to celebrate for decades. So, Chris had turned off any alarms, and hoped that Zach would start his special weekend by sleeping in, maybe until nine or so. Which meant he had time to bake.

“Banana bread?” he asked, looking at Nathan, who was holding up a smooshed piece of banana.

The baby squealed.

Chris made himself a cup of coffee and grabbed his iPad, looking up recipes. “Ooh. Banana muffins with brown sugar crumble. That sounds good.” He looked at Nathan, who raised both eyebrows and opened his mouth. “And maybe fruit, and some of that expensive yogurt he likes.”

Nathan held up his banana again. “Ba ba ba.”

“Yeah, you have some banana too, don’t you? But there’s still plenty for Daddy’s breakfast.”

Nathan put the banana in his mouth, scowling slightly.

“You going to help me, Little Man? Keep me company while I cook?” he asked, starting to pull out the ingredients.

“Ba ba baba.”

“I’ll take that as a yes. Okay, let’s get this show on the road.”

A little over an hour later, a delicious aroma emanated from the oven, and Chris had cleaned up most of the mess — except for the cereal and banana that now formed a plaster on Nathan’s cheeks. He snuck up with a wet washcloth in one hand and a dry one in the other. Nathan gave him a wary look, which shifted to alarm just as Chris covered his face with the wet wash cloth.

“Where’s Nathan?” he asked, scrubbing the squirming child as quickly as he could. Nathan grabbed the cloth and pulled down, hard. “There he is!” Chris swiped a few more times at Nathan’s hair and brow, until he was mush-free, and then he continued the game of peek-a-boo with the dry cloth, while he cleaned off the tray with the wet.

A few minutes later the oven chimed and Chris set the muffins on the counter.

"Ha," Nathan said.

"That's right. Hot. We'll let them cool before we bring them to Daddy."

"Da da da."

"Should we get his present out?" Chris asked, walking to the cabinet they'd hidden it in. He pulled out a leather-bound photo album. Nathan reached for it, grunting. "Okay, you can look at it. Let me just wipe your tray dry.

Nathan opened it to the first page. "Baba ayta Dada," he said, waving his hand over the first picture of the three of them in the hospital room.

"That's right! Baby Nathan and Daddy. Wow, you're getting so good at this verbal communication thing. Pretty soon you can play word games with Daddy, too."

Nathan have him a quizzical look that had Chris biting back a grin.

Nathan continued turning pages and babbling as Chris cut fruit and dished out yogurt and laid everything out on a tray. "Oh, we need our sign!" Chris said. "Let's see if the paint on your handprints is dry." Chris walked out to the patio, where it was drying on the table. Zach had gotten in so late the night before that there had been no concern that he would discover it. Chris had carefully written out "Happy Father's Day" in thick, stylized letters in the middle of a sheet of light gray paper, and then he'd surrounded the text with Nathan's hand prints in cream and dark gray. It was babyish, but understated, and Chris was pleased with the result.

Chris returned to the kitchen and put the sign on the tray, looking at the clock. Zach rarely slept past nine, even after late night shoots. In fact, he was usually the one up with Nathan, letting Chris sleep an extra hour. "Should we go see if Daddy is awake? Before he does something silly like hop in the shower."

Nathan's face broke into a broad grin. "Dada!"

"Let's find him," Chris said, unlatching Nathan from the highchair and holding him on his hip. "Where's Daddy?" he asked with a sing-song voice as Nathan laughed and peeked around his shoulders. Chris slowly pushed the bedroom door open to find Zach rolling onto his side.

"Hey," came the groggy voice. "How are my favorite boys?"

"DadaDA!"

Chris set the squirming child on the bed, where he promptly crawled over mountains of comforters to reach his father. Zach's grin lit up his face as he watched his son approach. Shirtless and rumpled and happy — he looked sexy as hell. The idea of the three of them staying in pajamas and hanging out as a family all day was so appealing. Chris crossed his arms and leaned against the bedpost as he watched _his_ two favorite boys. He couldn't hold back his laugh when Nathan finally reached Zach and fell into his arms, squealing.

" _Buongiorno_ , Nathan!" Zach said, kissing the dimple on Nathan's cheek, and then blowing a raspberry, much to the baby's delight. Zach held out a hand to him, and Chris made his way to Zach's side of the bed, taking his hand and allowing himself to be pulled down into a kiss. "Good morning, baby," Zach whispered against his lips.

"Hmmm. Good morning," he answered, raking his fingers through Zach's hair. "Stay there. I need to go get something."

"Don't worry. Nathan has me pinned. I'm not going anywhere." Nathan threw himself against Zach's chest again, giggling, and Zach pulled him into bear hug.

Chris went back to the kitchen, poured two fresh cups of coffee and placed them on the tray with the breakfast, sign, and photo album. He carefully carried it all back, walking in on Zach playing peek-a-boo with Nathan, apparently in Italian.

_“Dov’è Babbo? Eccolo!”_

Nathan turned toward the door as Chris entered and clapped.

"Baba!"

Zach's eyes grew comically wide as he looked back and forth between Nathan and Chris, eyebrows raised when he saw the tray.

“You just ate, Nathan. You don’t need a bottle. Unless you were telling Daddy there are bananas in his muffins.”

“What’s all this?” Zach asked, scooting into a sitting position so the tray could be placed over his legs.

“Happy Father’s Day,” Chris answered with a grin, settling the tray and picking up his own coffee.

“That’s Sunday,” Zach responded. “Oh my god, that smells good.”

“Well, Nathan and I decided we wanted to get an early start and party all weekend,” he said with a shrug.

“You did, did you?” Zach asked, taking a bite of muffin and humming as he chewed. He washed it down with some coffee. "Have a meeting? Take a vote?”

“Absolutely.” Chris turned to Nathan, who was sitting on the bed watching Zach break pieces off his muffin. “Nathan?” The baby turned toward him. “Who wants to play with Daddy all weekend?” he asked, raising his hand.

“Dada!” Nathan cried, lifting both arms in the air and then slapping the comforter.

“See? Nathan even votes twice, but I let that slide.”

“This is still warm. Did you bake it this morning?” Zach asked, patting the bed next to him motioning for Chris to come sit.

“Yeah. Nathan decided on banana muffins, didn’t you buddy? He was a big help.” Chris sat cross-legged on the bed and Nathan crawled over to him.

“I’ll bet. And did you help with this, too, Nathan?” he asked, holding up the sign. “Is that your hand?”

Nathan grinned and splayed his fingers.

Zach studied the sign for a moment, tracing the handprints with a finger between bites of muffin and fruit.

“This is really great, Chris. Thank you,” he said.

“That’s not even the real gift,” Chris said, sipping his coffee with a small smile. He enjoyed seeing Zach so happy and relaxed. They’d both had a hectic few weeks, and this was a brief respite before Chris’ work schedule got busy again. Zach seemed torn between wanting to savor his breakfast and wanting to rush through it to get to the present. He ended up sharing, feeding tiny bits of muffin to Nathan and Chris as he finished his yogurt and fruit. When it was all done he wiped his hands carefully and moved his coffee to the night stand.

“Can you take that, please?” he asked, lifting the sign and the leather book as Chris cleared the tray and set it aside. “That’s better,” Zach said, shifting closer to Nathan and Chris so they could all look at the album together. “So what do we have here?” he asked, opening the cover. “Wow. Who is this, Nathan?”

“Ayta” he answered, clapping.

“Yes it is! That’s the first day we met you.”

Zach turned one page, and then another, lingering over every picture. Most were taken by Chris, but he’d snuck in a few that Joe had taken — those were most of the photos featuring all three of them. Nathan sat next to him, pointing at pictures and babbling away, and Chris sat just beyond Nathan, close enough to see the album, but much more interested in Zach’s face — the little smiles as he looked at each picture, the way he chewed on his lower lip or let out a helpless chuckle or wiped back a threatening tear. Finally he looked up at Chris, eyes bright and swimming a bit. “This is amazing, Chris. He's growing so fast and I'm already forgetting what he looked like when he was an infant and couldn't do any of his tricks yet. To have it all in one place, page after page of all his changes — it’s perfect.” He reached across Nathan and wrapped a hand around the back of Chris’ neck, pulling him in for a kiss. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you back,” Chris said against Zach’s lips, warmth spreading through his chest. He knew Zach would like the gift, but he hadn't anticipated how emotional he'd be. It felt almost sacred, this moment, feeling Zach's awe and love and joy all at the surface, shared so openly it felt like it was emanating from his skin. Chris basked in it and tried to memorize the feeling.

Zach hummed into the kiss, and then bit gently at his bottom lip, sending the warmth abruptly lower.

Nathan cried out, finally tired of getting no one's attention, and both men grinned as they broke the kiss.

"Thank you, too, Nathan," Zach said, dropping a kiss on the child's hair. "Well, if we're doing presents today, I guess you'd better open this," he added, reaching over to pull a flat box from the drawer of his nightstand.

"What's this for?" he asked, setting down his coffee and taking the package.

"Father's Day," Zach answered quietly. "Don't," he interrupted as Chris started to protest. "You were there from the beginning — helped me give him his first bath, went through all those sleepless nights with me, changed diapers, made bottles, earned one of his first smiles. You are every bit as much his father as I am. In every important way," he said, as if acknowledging the "except genetics and legal standing" that had just flashed through Chris' mind. "And you have just as much right to be recognized. Please." Zach nodded at the package, and it was Chris' turn to get emotional.

He opened the box to find a small screen, a bit bigger than a GPS device for the car.

"It's a portable electronic photo frame. I've loaded it with a bunch of pictures, and they'll each show for two minutes before moving onto the next one. I got this particular model because it also plays video clips." Zach reached over and pressed a button, and up popped a video of Chris reading to Nathan when he was still tiny — " _Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There_ " from the sound of it — obviously recorded clandestinely on Zach's phone. It transitioned to a much more recent video of Chris crawling on the ground, as Nathan squealed and crawled away.

"Oh my god, Zach!" Chris laughed as Nathan cried, "Baaba!"

Chris tore his eyes away from the screen and looked at the child as something started to fall into place for him. But it didn't really make sense.

"I thought you could take it on location with you next week. You're going to be gone for a while — we're still visiting, of course, but I thought, in between—"

"It's going to make me smile so much," Chris finished. "I can't believe you filmed me doing my 'Wild Things' impression. You're so sneaky."

"You have no idea," Zach said, raising an eyebrow in mock villainy.

Chris barked a laugh. "I love it. Thank you!  I... I don't know what to say. I wasn't expecting anything. But it's... It's really nice." He leaned back over toward Zach to kiss him again. "Thank you, sweetheart."

It was a languid kiss, and Chris sighed into it, his heart impossibly full.

They'd been living together for ten months, out as a couple for just over six, and there had been a lot of domestic joy in that time, but this was the first time Zach had so definitively said he considered Chris Nathan's dad. But he really felt it right now, with Nathan sitting between them, babbling away as they kissed again over his head.

“I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one who thinks you’re Nathan’s dad,” Zach whispered.

Chris pulled away slowly, noticing the “bababa” Nathan was babbling and the sheepish look on Zach’s face.

“Zach?”

Zach looked at Nathan and chuckled softly, biting his lower lip. “I don’t think he means ‘bottle’ or ‘banana’ or ‘baby’ or whatever else you’ve interpreted as his meaning. I think he means… you.”

“What?”

Zach dragged his hand down his face. “So, remember when Nathan and I first moved in, and I referred to you as 'Uncle Chris' when talking to him?”

“Yeah.”

“And then later, when we got together, well, that didn’t really work anymore. But it felt like a step backward to just call you Chris.”

“Okay,” Chris said to fill Zach’s pause.

“But there was nothing that seemed appropriate. Nothing more important than ‘uncle’ that wouldn’t be taking things very far, very quickly. Everything was so new between us, and I was worried about scaring you off, and also a little worried that — I don’t know — my feelings for you seemed so strong because we were both so tied into Nathan’s life, and that they wouldn’t be that way if he didn’t exist. I don’t think that now. At all. But at the time—”

“It’s okay. I understand. Things were really intense, and we were constantly sleep-deprived. I think we were both half expecting to wake up from a very good dream.”

“Exactly. But the fact remained, it felt _wrong_ to just call you Chris. So, I started speaking to Nathan in Italian.”

“I remember that.”

“I honestly don’t know that much. Just what Nonna used to say to me. Games she used to play. But somehow, it seemed easier to say what I wanted in a language you didn’t understand.” He bit his lip, and Chris thought perhaps Zach was blushing.  Really?  “I didn’t expect him to pick any of it up.”

“What did he pick up?”

Zach was definitely blushing. “Nathan?”

The baby looked up at him.

“Where’s Babbo?”

Nathan turned toward Chris, rising up on his knees and flinging himself onto Chris’ chest. “Bababa,” he cried with a huge grin.

“I’m baba?” Chris asked, taking Nathan in his arms and kissing his neck. Nathan doubled over laughing and tried to squirm away from the tickling whiskers. “What does it mean?”

“Father,” Zach said softly.

Chris’ gaze snapped to Zach.

“Sometimes I use ‘babbino’, which is more like ‘daddy’,” he added with a shrug. “‘Papa’ is used, too, but I knew you’d catch on to that. We can switch now, if you’d rather. Babbo is used in my family, but it’s pretty specific to the region of Italy Nonna was from. Papa is used everywhere,”

Chris blinked to clear his eyes. “Babbo is fine,” he said, kissing Nathan again. The baby curled up against his chest and yawned. He tightened his arms around Nathan’s back. “So you started doing that when he was like two-and-a-half months old?”

“Pretty much,” Zach answered with a sheepish smile.

“Wow.”

“Today was the first time I felt sure he was saying ‘Babbo’. He’s only been really talking for what — a week? Two? But today it seemed clear.” Zach rubbed Nathan’s back as he snuggled against Chris, yawning again. “When did he wake up?”

“About six-thirty. We played a little, and I got him changed and we made breakfast.”

“Looks like he’s ready for a nap.”

Chris shifted to get up.

“Let me do it this time. You’ve already treated me so much this morning. Nathan, give Babbo a kiss goodnight.”

Nathan planted one of his open-mouthed face-smashes on Chris’ chin. “Have a good nap, Little Man,” Chris said, kissing him back on his cheek.

Zach disappeared down the hall, and Chris leaned back against the headboard, reeling at Zach’s words. He absently picked at the remains of the muffin left on Zach’s plate, debating whether to go to the kitchen and get another. He decided against it, scooting closer to the warm spot on the bed Zach had left behind.

He’d hoped they’d get to this point some day — this sense of family — but to know that Zach had been feeling it from so early was almost overwhelming. And wonderful. “Nathan’s my son,” he whispered, testing the words on his tongue. “I’m his Babbo, his dad.” It was surreal. Like a dream. But it also felt _good_.

“You must have worn him out. He went down really easily,” Zach said as he returned from settling Nathan for his nap. He crawled back into bed and tugged at Chris until they were face to face. Zach silently traced fingers along Chris’ jaw and temple, over his eyebrows, studying his face. Thinking. “You know how you’re always saying you want Nathan’s eyes to change to brown, so he looks like Mini-Me.”

“Yeah,” Chris answered, a bit more breathlessly that he expected.

“Well, I’m always glad that his eyes are blue, because it’s a physical representation of a deeper reality. He does look like me; it’s clear he’s mine. But his blue eyes make him look like he’s yours, too. And he is.” Zach continued stroking Chris’ face as a new wave of emotion surged through him. “And so am I,” Zach added, leaning in to finally kiss Chris, drawing a groan out of him. Chris scooted closer, needing their physical state to match these words. Chris knew that Zach was his, had heard it before, but it was still always a thrill. And the rest... Chris threaded his fingers through Zach’s hair and kissed him hard.

“So I’ve been thinking…” Zach continued, breaking the kiss. “For a while actually. And I wanted to do this in a much more romantic way, but it feels right, so…”

Nothing more came, and Chris huffed a laugh before kissing Zach and asking, “What have you been thinking?”

Zach bit his lip and rolled away from Chris to fumble with the nightstand again. When he came back he was holding what looked to be a very old, small cardboard box. A ring box. Chris’ mouth went dry.

Zach’s hands were shaking as he removed the lid and tipped the box so a blue, velvet ring box dropped on the bed between them. It was vivid against the white sheets, and Chris propped himself on an elbow, mirroring Zach’s pose, and watch as Zach’s fingers struggled to open the stiff hinge, revealing…

…the most hideous gold ring he’d ever seen. Seriously. It was an early 70’s nugget gold monstrosity, with what looked like a [_tiger's eye_](https://www.flickr.com/photos/55449539@N08/18350159294).

And he realized that he’d been silent too long.

“Uh—”

“I realize it’s fantastically ugly,” Zach said quickly. “But it was my dad’s, and it’s 18k gold. There are jewelers here in LA that make bands of platinum and gold. I thought if we melted this down, there’d be enough inlay material for two bands.” His voice was nervous. Trembling.

“You want to get married?” Chris asked, just to make sure he was following. Because he was pretty sure Zach was proposing to him while they were both in their pajamas in bed, but the day had been rather surreal so far, and he felt the need to confirm.

Zach huffed an embarrassed laugh. “Uh, yeah. I’m really botching this.” He cleared his throat. “Christopher Whitelaw Pine, would you do me the honor of marrying me by accepting… well not _this_ ring, but much nicer rings we’ll design ourselves using precious metal my dad once wore? Oh god, this is _terrib—_ ”

Chris cut him off with a kiss, half laughing. “Shhh,” he whispered against Zach’s lips. “No berating my future husband.”

Zach froze. “So, is that a ‘yes’? Or are you holding out for actual eloquence, or maybe at least coherence?”

“I could understand you at 3 a.m. after two-and-a-half hours of sleep in Nathan’s first week. This was crystal clear, more or less. Yes, Zachary John Quinto, I’ll marry you. Tiger’s eye and all.”

“It’s a black star sapphire.”

“Of course it is. My answer stands,” Chris said, getting back to kissing, because that was becoming an imperative. A joyful, essential, immediate imperative. But Zach was pulling away...

“We aren’t kissing,” Chris complained.

“There’s more,” Zach said.

“More than getting married?”

Zach pulled back so they could see each other again. “Uh, yeah.” He blew out a breath. “I was hoping… I’d like you to adopt Nathan. I want him to be _ours_ , and if anything happens to me—”

“Done.” He leaned in to kiss Zach again.

“Chris. Wait, really? Just like that?”

“Are you kidding me? Of course just like that. I told you when we first got together that I wanted dibs on him, and that was before he started calling me his Babbo.”

“Oh."  Zach huffed an almost shy laugh.  "Okay.”

“So we’ll apply for a wedding license and get the paperwork for the adoption on Monday. We can tell people tomorrow. But today is just for us.”

Zach grinned. The smile that Chris loved, that was so big he got that little dent under his left eye.

“So can we kiss now?” Chris asked. Because surely it was time.

“Yes. No wait. Give me that sign you made. The one with Nathan’s handprints.  And the tray.”

“What? Why?” Chris asked, reaching behind him to retrieve them.

Zach was leaning over his nightstand, returning with a black pen. He sat up and placed the tray on his lap. His tongue came out in concentration as he leaned over the sign.

“What are you doing?” Chris asked, slightly alarmed that Zach was messing with his gift.

“Fixing it,” he said, pressing the pen against the paper.

Chris sat up so he could see what Zach was changing. There was an X through the apostrophe, and —

“Oh my god, Zach.”

“There,” Zach said, holding it up for inspection. He turned to Chris, smiling. “Now we can kiss.”

Chris pushed the sign and the tray off the bed and pulled Zach down on top of him. And before his brain completely blissed out, he made a mental note to get a frame, because thanks to Zach’s change, the sign was now a perfect reminder of the day.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/55449539@N08/18783387560)

**Author's Note:**

> Recipe for muffins: http://allrecipes.com/recipe/banana-crumb-muffins/


End file.
